The Tales of Lyra Black
by lumosmancer
Summary: Imagine the daughter of Sirius Black and Giselle Crouch, and imagine what antics she could get into. With her best friends, she attends Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry only to be plagued with ghosts of her odd past and enemies of all kinds. Everything, especially her best friend, is getting in the way of her discovering a deathly secret... RATED M FOR LATER CONTENT!
1. Introduction

**Welcome to the Tales of Lyra Black.**

If you have visited before, I'm sorry I keep redoing this story!

To those who are new, I hope you enjoy this ride.

/

HALLOWEEN 1981

...'I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now.'

'You don't mean - you can't mean the people who live here?' cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. 'Dumbledore - you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son - I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here! No – what about Sirius and Giselle Black, they're his godparents, for goodness sake!' The Professor cried and Dumbledore sighed, adjusting his crooked hat.

'If only he could, dear Minerva.'

Professor McGonagall frowned and stared at the headmaster before the reply sunk in. She gasped and shook her head.

'But... No – it simply cannot be true!' Dumbledore nodded and looked sadly at the starry sky.

'I'm afraid that Lord Voldemort destroyed two families this terrible evening. The body of Giselle Black was found at their residence and the evidence of Lord Voldemort's involvement is astronomical.' Professor McGonagall blinked and shook her head, her mouth gaping like a goldfish out of water.

'I-Impossible… And the others?'

Dumbledore sighed and gave her a kind expression.

'Sirius Black was the one who found his wife's body though the incident of him fleeing the scene and heading to the Potter's has not been dealt with well with others.'

'But of course Sirius would be worried not only for his family but for his friends-,' McGonagall stuttered but Dumbledore sighed.

'Of course, it would seem that way but the body of their daughter wasn't found at the cottage nor was she found at the Potter's. I am unsure of the child's whereabouts unless… No, no more dreary topics tonight.' Professor McGonagall wiped her tears and shuddered.

'This… I cannot believe that they're gone.'

'Yes, it has come to a shock to us all...'


	2. I Muggle Tricks

The first of September was always the busiest day of the year for the residents of Cole's Orphanage.

Cole's was a small orphanage located on the outskirts of Camden that was known for being a respectable and smart, no-nuisance domicile. It sat between numbers nineteen and twenty-three Rowstock Gardens, a set of house that were like every other square of London townhouses. If someone traipsed through the square with their eyes peeled, they wouldn't have guessed that the houses towards the northwest corner of the square played home to dozens of orphans. The only give-away was a sign on the trimmed hedge in front of the house donning the houses name. Cole's Orphanage hadn't changed in ten years.

The residents of Rowstock Gardens never bothered with the orphanage; the house was never a big concern of theirs. The children were polite and quiet to their neighbours. They would smile and politely wish a good morning to whoever they passed in the square, they would be careful not to kick their footballs at the neighbours cars and they never screamed and shouted loud enough for their tantrums to pass through the walls. The children rarely caused trouble in Rowstock Gardens, though that couldn't have been said for the surrounding streets. They were smart enough to wreak havoc away from the home.

The younger kids didn't like to misbehave but it was a different situation for the older ones. They loved to truant and terrorise the streets of Camden and central London, but they were clever enough not to trace the trouble back to the house carers at Cole's. If ever one Cole kid ran into trouble with a constable, they would be smart and lie about their name and address. The dimmer kids, however, would manage to get off light whenever the police realised they were orphans. The code to having a happy life at Coles was to follow the crowd; all the kids knew that.

The sky was miserable today, matching the moods of the children around the country who were getting ready for the first day of school. Parents were packing their kids' lunches and the schools were counting down the minutes until their gates were open for the new academic year. Inside the orphanage, it was no different.

'Hurry up Grace! You're gonna be late!'

The smallest bedroom on the second floor was dead to the world. The only living being inside was crawled up in their bed, snoring softly with the duvet half smothering their face. Soft morning light peeked through the musty blinds trying to wake the girl up but she slept on soundly. Sounds of excited children running up and down the halls stirred her from her peaceful doze but she refused to open her eyes and end her cosy dream state.

'Grace! You've got thirty seconds before I come up!' shouted the familiar voice, and the girl named Grace slowly counted as she tossed and turned in her bed. Her eyes found the thin beam of light under her door and watched as a pair of feet appeared thirty five seconds later. The door creaked as it opened and all Grace could hear was an exasperated sigh.

'You've got to be kidding me,' gasped the carer who was staring at her. 'I can't believe you…'

'Mhm?' sounded Grace from between her pillows, 'You were five seconds late.'

The carer shook her head, looking like she was about to giving up.

'First day of school, Grace! You were supposed to be up half an hour ago and should've left for school five minutes ago!' she exclaimed, but instead of taking the usual hands on her hips telling off stance, the carer sat down on the end of the bed and offered her a kind smile. 'Anyway, that's not the point, that doesn't necessarily matter now,' murmured Danielle. She was surprisingly calm considering the situation. This grabbed Grace's attention. The carer, Danielle, was Grace's favourite person meaning she knew her inside and out. This behaviour wasn't usual.

'You're lucky our morning schedule has been rearranged and you are in fact on time. Everyone else have left and there's toast in-,' began Danielle, smoothing her curls out of her face, but Grace happily interrupted.

'Rearranged? No school?' she chirped, making Danielle laugh.

'Of course not, you're still going to school,' Grace mouthed a swear word, 'but there's, um, something kinda weird we have to talk about first.' Danielle's eyes darted to the door and she quickly stood up, brushing down her cardigan. 'We'll talk all about it in the kitchen. Get dressed and I'll boil the kettle,' she finished. As Grace reached for the new mustard and plum school sweater, however, Danielle stopped in the doorway and objected.

'Wear something casual,' she told her, and Grace hesitated with a smirk.

'So no school?' she tried again, and Danielle narrowed her eyes. She wasn't going to crack.

'…I'll be in the kitchen,' she called, disappearing down the hall before Grace could pipe up again. The school uniform was shoved on the bed, abandoned, and Grace slipped on a pair of ripped jeans (she had unwillingly fallen over a few times recently), a black and white t-shirt, her cosy emerald jumper Danielle had knitted her last year, and her black trainers. She grabbed her hairbrush and toothbrush then trailed to the bathroom, her mind bubbling with anxiety and guilt. She had an idea what Danielle wanted to talk about and she felt nervous.

Grace didn't have a very good life here at Cole's – Danielle was the only thing that made living there liveable. The carer bonded with the girl and they had a common understanding, something Grace had with no one else. As she squirted toothpaste onto her brush she thought about the night before and her stomach churned. She had been caught in a bust up with Rachel Madden, the girl that made her life a living hellhole, for reasons that she couldn't explain. She could _never_ explain them.

This wasn't the first time this had happened. At the orphanage, Grace was the freak no one talked to, the one who would get caught up in unbelievable circumstances that defied Mother Nature. Over the years she had abuse hurled at her and she learned to ignore it, but lately she was beginning to believe the bullies' words. They called her a freak and a loser, but she couldn't think of reasons why she wasn't these things anymore. The freakiness in her came out whenever they made her angry, and it had become a vicious cycle. Rachel Madden had brought on another outburst from Grace yesterday evening, but this time it had escalated badly.

Grace had been painting in the attic, revelling in the silence of being alone with her own thoughts, when Rachel came upstairs with her friend Beverly Goldman. It started as a prank, with Beverly wanting to see if the rumours were true about the freak from Cole's. The two girls disturbed Grace with a hollering scream then provoked her by dumping a bucket full of iced water over her. Water ruined the pages of Grace's paint book and it fell in between her knees in a coloured pile of mush, months of effort wasted just to enrage her for a show. She tried to keep calm but the girls' laughter tipped her over the edge. Thinking back on it with hindsight, Grace knew she initiated the violence, but Rachel certainly intensified it. They were on the floor brawling, ripping hair and punching anything they could get their hands on, with Beverly cheering Rachel on heartily. She wanted to see what really happened when the freak got really angry.

'Make her angrier!' she jeered, and Rachel staggered to her feet, looking maliciously at her friend.

'It always works if it gets personal, doesn't it freak?' spat Rachel, and she waited to see if Grace would shout back. She didn't need to, because when it gets personal she can't hold back her emotions. Things get very weird whenever Grace gets emotional and Rachel can never handle it.

'Insult her, go on,' whined Beverly, but it was Grace who decided to go first this time. She was already sick of these games.

'Do you not have anything better to do? Are your lives that boring that you can't find something else to do? Besides berate me and lick each other's assholes-,' cracked Grace, and Beverly scoffed, disgusted.

'You're such a sicko! I bet your parents killed themselves just to get away from you,' slandered Rachel, and Grace's face dropped. It was as though an iron fist punched her gut and she choked, looking away. She didn't know how her parents died, and she was certain that they didn't kill themselves... but it was an unanswered question. She was clueless, that's why Rachel's blow hit her hard. She knew Grace's parents died and any jab would wound her deep.

'Shut up,' growled Grace. Her hands clenched unknowingly.

'They couldn't wait to get away from you, and I would have killed myself too if I were stuck with you. Why the people in this dump didn't drown you in the Thames-,' she continued.

'I said shut it!' yelled Grace, as though yelling would drown her out.

'You should do it today and put us all out of our misery. Go on, do yourself a favour and jump off a bridge,' she cackled, smoothing her wild thick blonde hair back into her high ponytail. Grace messily shoved her black hair out of her face and concentrated on not crying in front of the bullies. The emotions was building inside of her.

'Yeah, no one would miss you,' added Beverly, trying to join in.

'That's a lie,' defended Grace instantly knowing that it wasn't true. 'Danielle would.'

The two girls looked at each other and burst out laughing, forcing it out in choky gasps to emphasise how pathetic they thought she was.

'Oh you poor thing. Greene is getting paid to like you. You think she'd pretend to be your friend on purpose? She can't _stand_ you,' bit Rachel, bending down to reach Grace's level patronisingly. Both of them were too focused on the girl on the floor to notice the cracked flowerpot behind them shoot up to the ceiling. A dusty cushion was next, glued to the roof as though it were magnetised, and then a rolled up rug joined it. Grace was beginning to shake from fury.

'Nobody wants to be friends with a freak, especially a poor, orphaned ugly one like you, let alone _love_ one,' explained Rachel as though it were fact, but Grace had finally noticed the floating furniture. She forgot the bullies' words and stared at the phenomenon, confused. The floor was shaking ever so slightly, but Rachel disturbed it by poking Grace in the chest. The throbbing in her throat stopped and cracked the surface.

The two girls felt the floor shake and they screamed, looking around. Beverly gasped as she noticed the rug, and she clung for dear life on to Rachel's arm. 'Look! Look what's she done!'

'It wasn't me!' cried Grace, but they didn't believe a word. Their disbelief seemed to trigger the finale. Grace didn't mean for it to happen, but her distaste had grown too much for their actions not to have consequences. With her whole body shaking in rage, Grace watched the two bullies levitate and join the furniture on the ceiling. Their faces contorted with fear and their screaming was intense, both full with the desperation to get down. Gobsmacked, Grace grabbed her backpack and left the two hanging from the roof, their cries reverberating off the wooden beams.

She had no idea what happened to them.

Grace wiped her freshly washed face and stared at herself in the mirror, wondering what punishment was in store for her when she was to join Danielle in the kitchen. She was going to be shipped off to a mental asylum, or thrown into a school for misbehaving delinquents - that had got to be the last straw for her. She watched as her striking grey eyes drooped, and her freckled nose scrunched up in discomfort. She examined the black eye she had been sporting a couple of weeks back, and was glad to see that the discolouring had faded into an inconspicuous deep brown. Grace shook out her thick, black hair and clipped it back with a gold pin and a smile - she could finally show her face without needing to hide any injuries. She checked and double-checked herself, and refused to acknowledge that she was stalling. She couldn't face the kitchen; she didn't have a plan yet.

The hallways were empty and quiet, and Grace cursed the floorboards as each step brought a loud squeak. She never noticed how squeaky the floor was before. It felt like minutes for Grace to reach the bottom floor without making a sound or alerting Danielle that she was ready. Her feet touched the stone floor of the lobby and she breathed a deep sigh of relief. The lobby was tall and airy, the stairs to the upper floors lining the four walls and an ancient crystal chandelier - an heirloom from founder Mrs Cole - hung from above. Grace admired it for a second before sneaking out the front door. She held her breath for a few seconds after leaving, waiting to see if Danielle would follow, but the coast was clear. She pelted down the path and round the corner, looking for a place to think her plans through.

She wasn't sure what she wanted to do, but whatever it was had to be conjured up pretty fast. Grace kicked a few stones on her walk, trying to think of a way to work out of the Rachel predicament, and she traipsed around the streets adjoining Rowstock Gardens (she wouldn't go too far or else Danielle would have a panic attack).

It was on her third lap when she felt someone watching her. Grace slowed her pace and examined the square expecting to see Danielle, but she discovered the stalker rather quickly. Whoever it was wanted to be found. A tall, slender elderly man stood diagonally from her across the square and she froze. He was the most extraordinary man she had ever seen. He wore brilliant robes of cerulean; a silver starry hat perched upon inches and inches of dazzling white hair, and a pair of spectacles that reflected the blinding sun. She could spot strings of gold inter-webbing on his robes, and she swore for a moment she saw a golden swallow fluttered near his elbow. His stare wasn't malevolent, but kind and inviting. Grace decided to approach the man carefully, and within metres of him she saw his soft smile beneath his hair.

'You must be Grace,' he greeted warmly, his voice warm like crackling fire, and Grace nodded. This must have been Danielle's rearrangement.

'Yeah. Hello, nice to meet you,' she responded, trying to stop her eyes from bulging out of her head. The man seemed to appreciate her curiosity, and gestured to the front garden of Cole's. He kept his facade mysterious for the moment and wanted to give the news away from prying ears.

'Danielle is expecting us, let us go and have a nice cup of tea.'


End file.
